


A Prophecy in Gotham City

by Jean_Paul_Valley



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Constantine (Comic), Constantine: The Hellblazer (Comics)
Genre: Abduction, Bat Family, Blood and Injury, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Cults, Death Rituals, Gen, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Magic, Mystery, No Romance, No Smut, Occult, One Shot, Plot, Religion, Supernatural Elements, Undead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-12-27 00:33:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18293267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jean_Paul_Valley/pseuds/Jean_Paul_Valley
Summary: When the arrival of Jean-Paul Valley in the middle of the night turns out to be a warning of a conspiracy that threatens the Batfamily, Bruce must make an unlikely team up with John Constantine.





	A Prophecy in Gotham City

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Batman fic.  
> I hope you enjoy it.

“Long night master Bruce?"  
Said Alfred questioningly entering the Batcave with a mug of black coffee on a silver tray. It was 5 o'clock in the morning.

“Actually, no, but before I could go to sleep I heard footsteps and a window latch, So I came down here to check the security cameras," replied Bruce not looking away from what he was doing, he was still half dressed as batman. His Cape and cowl were strewn on the floor, Alfred instinctively went to pick them up.

“You mean there's been a break in at the Manor?" Alfred asked with genuine concern and surprise, surly Wayne Manor had to be the most secure place in Gotham City.

“Sort of... Look here,” Bruce gestured to the upper right screen of the Bat computer.

“That’s the 13th guest bedroom in the North Wing," Alfred said squinting at the screen. The footage showed crumpled sheets on a luxury bed rising a falling in the pattern of deep unconscious breaths, someone was sleeping in there. The grainy black and white video also showed clothing or was it armour discarded around the room, the widow was open and the drapes fluttered in the breeze.

“Master Jason perhaps or Roy Harper?" Alfred suggested, knowing that his input was unnecessary and that the only reason the sleeping figure was still inside the Manor with all of his bones intact was because Bruce had already ascertained who this person was and that they were not a threat.

“No,” answered Bruce. "It’s Jean-Paul Valley.” He spoke gravely knowing that Alfred and the other occupants of the house would not be thrilled to see him again, he wasn't sure how he felt himself. The last time he'd seen Azrael, he had been trying to kill Bruce and take the mantle of the Bat, but since then he knew Jean-Paul had been trying to redeem himself fighting alongside The Outsiders and The Justice League. Bruce knew he would never have come here without informing him unless he was desperate or hiding from something.

A few moments passed in the Batcave in stunned silence, watching the former assassin for the Order of St Dumas, a former Batman, sleep silently via cctv. Azrael coming here could not be a good sign Bruce pondered wondering if it would be safer for everyone to make him leave or whether he owed his old friend refuge from whatever trouble it was that he was in.

Alfred however from his many years of service at the Manor already knew Bruce's decision, Wayne Manor had become a sort of sanctuary for the outcast and the disgraced. Some of the most powerful, talented and dangerous people in the world had passed through these halls at their weakest and most vulnerable moments.

The sound of light feet on cold stone floor disturbed the thoughts of both men. Damien, the youngest and lightest sleeper of all of Bruce's children was tiptoeing towards them, he seemed disappointed to have been spotted. The boy didn't speak he seemed upset, instinctively he walked towards Bruce who pulled him onto his lap, burying his head in his father's shoulder, Damien mumbled about having a nightmare before relaxing, Bruce held him gently, knowing that it was vary rare that Damien would accept any type of affection or physical contact. Damien frequently had night terrors, he thought that made him weak and was very embarrassed about it, no matter how many times Bruce told him that it was perfectly normal. Damien fell asleep with his head on Bruce's soldiers, he didn't have the heart to move so he stayed working at the Bat computer for the rest of the night, Azreal's sudden appearance played on his mind.

The clock on the computer told Bruce that it was morning, he could hear movement upstairs, Dick, Tim and Cass were going for breakfast, but Damien still didn't stir, Bruce checked the footage from The room Jean-Paul was in again, he still didn't move. Bruce decided he was going to have to talk to him, he'd been awake all night and was no closer to knowing what could possibly have scared Jean-Paul so much to have him break into Wayne Manor in the middle of the night.

Bruce carried Damien upstairs, the light of the hallway in contrast with the gloom of the Batcave, half blinded Bruce and awoke Damien, who rubbed his eyes and arched his back like a stretching cat. Bruce placed his son on the floor preemptively, knowing it was unlikely Damien would still be in the mood for affection. Damian caught his father's eye with a slight smile and went off to join the others for breakfast.

Bruce made his way to the guest wing of the Manor still conflicted as to what to do for the best. He opened the door, the room was freezing. Bruce strode across the room to shut the window, and still the sleeping Jean-Paul didn't move. In the dim light Bruce could see dark crimson blooms of blood scattered on the pillows and sheets.

“Jean-Paul...? It's me Bruce." He stepped closer to the bed, he reached to pull the sheet back. Jean-Paul jolted upwards, gasping, pure terror in his eyes. Bruce recoiled slightly, Jean looked like he'd been through hell, Bruce pitied him, what had he gotten himself mixed up in? Jean-Paul was shaking, Bruce held him by the shoulders.  
"Your safe here, what's happened? Who hurt you?" Jean-Paul looked him the eyes but they were glazed and bewildered there was no recognition, he began jabbering. Bruce recognised it was French, he didn't understand much accept for a few biblical phrases. Jean-Paul fell silent and limp, placing him gently back on the bed, visibly shaken, Bruce was still no closer to understanding what on earth was going on. He checked Jean’s vitals, it appeared he had only passed out from shock. He left the room and would tell Alfred to attend to Jean-Paul when he came to. He knew there would be no rest from work today, Azreal had gone dark since his return to Gotham a month ago, Bruce needed to know everything he’d been doing.

Bruce left for patrol that night more uneasy than usual. Crime had been escalating in Gotham City, things were bad even by the standard of this damned place. There had been an increase in murders and sexual assaults, pointless acts of violence with no motive, by people with no criminal history or reason to attack. It was like the whole city was going insane and it was night's like this that made Bruce question whether what he did was making a difference, whether things would ever get better.

Alfred was just settling down for the evening when he heard a crash upstairs. Rushing to the hallway he was instantly knocked back. The light of a flame temporarily blinded him and its heat was unbearably close. The point of Azrael's flaming sword was at his neck, he could barely see the man brandishing it. Through the flickering fire all Alfred could make out was eyes. Eyes full of terror.  
"Jean-Paul it me, Alfred!"

"We have been forsaken! Agents of satan! Demons they're everywhere!" Jean-Paul raved incoherently, slowly lowering the sword from Alfred's neck.

"Gotham has been damned. Only hope...." He dropped the sword completely and its holy flame extinguished. Jean-Paul dropped to his knees.  
"Only hope is John Constantine."

Alfred stood up regaining his composure, he had escaped this encounter unscathed. Jean-Paul remained on his knees, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath.

"Master Valley...?" Alfred inquired tentatively, stepping away. Jean-Paul sat back and pushed back his long blonde hair that was sticking to his face, he looked up at Alfred pleadingly.

"Where am I?"

"Wayne Manor, Master Valley, you arrived last night most out of sorts. Master Bruce is quite keen to find out the nature of your visit. Do you remember why your here?"

"It’s probably already too late..."

"You had quite a serious head injury..." Alfred said implying his skepticism to all Jean-Paul's talk or demons and damnation.

"you don't believe me, but I saw...."

Alfred was uneasy, it was not the first time Jean-Paul Valley had been known to switch from perfectly fine to extreme psychosis. But the man before him on the floor appeared harmless, even desperate.

"How about we get you patched up?" Alfred offered his hand to Jean-Paul to help him up. Accompanying him to the kitchen Alfred, made tea and then went to fetch a clean dressing for Jean-Paul's head injury. Jean-Paul sat at the table catatonic. The first aid supplies where in the cave and Alfred had hardly descended the stairs when the Bat mobile pulled in. It stopped and Bruce exited the gargantuan vehicle.

"Alfred! You weren't responding on the comms!"

"Ah, yes master Bruce there was a it of a situation, here at the Manor. Master Valley has awoken, but I cant say much for the state he's in, he threatened me with that burning sword of his. I don't believe he's quite himself."

"Were you hurt?"

"No no I'm fine master Bruce."

"Did he say anything?"

"Yes, but he was incoherent, rambling about the supernatural. He did say that the only hope is John Constantine, if that name means anything to you?"

"It does and I don't like what it means."

Bruce knew what he had to do, the next day he went out in search of Zatanna. Back when he was a young man, before Batman before everything. Bruce had studied under Zatanna's father, the two of them had been close, but Bruce had struggled to maintain any personal relationships once he returned to Gotham. More recently Zatanna had helped The League on a number missions. Conveniently she had been performing in the Ice-Berg lounge as a stage magician the night before and had not yet left Town. Coincidence? The universe was rarely that kind, perhaps she would know more about whatever was going on.

In the journey to the Ice-Berg lounge Bruce was reflective. Maybe he was wasting his time. Why was he following up the prophecy of a delusional religious zealot who broke into his home in the middle of the night with a head injury. It was something about Jean-Paul's expression last night that made Bruce believe him, it wasn’t the fear, it was something else, pity perhaps? Like he knew something was coming.

Bruce got out of the car without even having considered how he would get into the Ice-Berg lounge in the middle of the day, usually as Bruce Wayne it was easy, he would be whisked straight into the VIP room with a drink in hand and cards on the table before he could even introduce himself. But the place wasn't even open and as Penguins HQ it wasn't exactly going to be undefended. The whole harbour was busy with people loading and unloading trucks, with this amount of people and activity he could easily sneak inside, but he might not have to.

“Zatanna!" She spun round and spotted him.

“Bruce! What a surprise, it been too long." She signalled for him to follow her to a more secluded part of the docks.  
“You took your time, I wasn't sure how long I could keep stalling them. I am a touring act, you know."

"I'm sorry Zatanna...." She cut him off.

"Look, I'm not going to waste anymore time, I've already called John, he's on his way, whatever was happening here it's big." she looked at him with the same pity Bruce had seen in Jean-Paul.

"What is going on here? And how is John Constantine involved?"

"I know you've never been one for the supernatural Bruce, but there has been a dramatic increase in, um... activity and its converging on Gotham. Your angelic friend paid me a visit a few days ago, he was onto something, but I fear they got to him."

"Jean-Paul? No he's alive. Whose they?"

"The Shadows... Well not all of them a splinter group called Shadow Demons or something equally as dramatic, they want to purify the earth in Hell Fire by causing some sort of apocalypse. Like the shadows they've been trying for millennia, waiting for the fulfilment of some insane prophecy. Whatever it is that they want, its here."

"But what about...." She cut him off again.

"I don't know anything else. This group everyone thought they were just a myth. What I do know is, if they're real, they easily have the power to take out your friend, he’s alive because they still have a purpose for him and I'm not the worlds greatest detective, but I'd wager they're using him to find you. "

"So your saying....."

"Everyone at Wayne Manor is in danger."

"And that this is the work of a dark magic using apocalyptic cult?"

"How long have you been doing this Bruce? It it really the strangest thing you've heard? Joking aside if the rumours are even half true this not something you or even I are equipped to deal with. If you value the lives of those closest to you get out now."

Zatanna's warning rung in his ears as he raced back to the Manor. The view from the outside was calm and unchanged, but the dread that he was too late still plagued him. The front door was unlocked and there was noise coming from the kitchen. He crept down the familiar  staircase. Bruce sighed heavily with relief at the sight of Alfred making tea.

“Master Bruce, I didn't hear you come in." Bruce entered the kitchen but stopped a beige trench coat was slung over the back of one chair and and slouched in it was John Constantine.

“'ello Bruce, I was jus' telling Alfred how it's going in the old country, pretty shit to be honest." Smoke curled from the end of a cigarette as he spoke. A strong scouse accent made him practically unintelligible. If Zatanna and Jean-Paul were right Bruce had no issue teaming up with whoever necessary, but at the moment he was irritated that everyone else seemed to be two steps ahead of him.

“What are you doing here?"

"I thought you could tell me, mate. Zatanna told me to get out 'ere, fate of the world at stake that kinda thing, then I get' ere an' she's bloody skipped town."

"Yesterday, Jean-Paul Valley came here after being attacked. Zatanna thinks the Shadow Demons attacked him and are using him to lead them here, to me. Jean-Paul said that you were our only hope."

"Sorry to disappoint ya mate, but the Shadow Demons League or whatever, ain't real."

Bruce sat down at the table, John continued to smoke Alfred served tea. Bruce's looked John in the eyes, he was lying.

"Would you at least visit Jean-Paul? Maybe you can make sense of what he's been saying?"

"I ain't going anywhere near that deluded freak! Last time I saw Azrael, he tried to murder me fer bein' a sinner and usin' the black arts!"

"Look, I think Jean-Paul got in over his head, it's a long story, but it was The System that had him trying to kill you, he wouldn't have had any control over it. It's happened before..."

"You what, mate!?! You need get a better reign on your little Bat club! From what I've heard half your brood is ex assassins."

"Don't talk about my family like that, John Constantine! You are a liar and a fraud. So give me one good reason not to haul your ass straight to the GCPD."

"Alright alright! No need for the bloody threats mate! I'll 'ave a chat with your avenging angel psycho!"

"Good well go now, he's at Thompkins clinic."

“I ain't even finished me bloody tea!" John protested.  
By the time John had turned around, Bruce had disappeared. John looked around disoriented before cursing under his breath.

"Master Bruce, will bring the car around front, sir."

"A ride in the Batmobile, I'm honoured." John replied sarcastically, heading for the front door.

It was the beginning of dusk when they arrived at the clinic, John more fell out of the vehicle than stepped out, he leaned against it to steady himself and lit another cigarette.

“Bloody 'ell who taught you to drive!"

Batman ignored him entering an old, dark building that looked nothing like a hospital, around them Volunteers attended to the homeless and elderly, Harper Row was among the volunteers, she kept out of sight, always hating it when Batman showed up here, it usually meant one of the family was injured.... Or worse.

"You can't smoke in here!" The frustrated voice of Dr Leslie Thompkins reverberated down the hallway. John did nothing, Batman shot him a look of solid steel.

"Sorry love." John begrudgingly put out his cigarette.

"Batman, I'd say its been a while or I'm pleased to see you. But I'd be lying, because you were here this morning. And it's never a social visit when you call. Are you picking up or dropping off?"

Bruce ignored her derision, she wasn't entirely wrong.

"I brought Jean-Paul here for psychiatric examination. How is he?"

"How is he? Where do you want me to start!?..." Leslie trailed of in extreme exasperation.

"He’s not asking how I am doctor, he's asking if I can fight."

Jean-Paul had appeared from one of the doors behind Leslie, he had a line of stitches above his right eye. Leslie walked away without saying anything, there was no arguing with these people.

"Can you?"

Bruce inquired looking him over, but it was not Jean-Paul's physical state that concerned him.

Jean-Paul hesitated, with everything he'd put himself through the last few months putting on the Suit of Sorrows was a huge risk, would he be able to remain in control of it? Could he put his teammates at risk? But if he didn't batman and Constantine would surely be killed before they got to whatever this apocalyptic cult had planned.

"Yes" Jean-Paul stated with all the steadfastness he could muster.

"Well that's bloody brilliant then ain't it? Now can we get a move on. I hate hospitals." Interjected John with his characteristic awful timing.

Azrael fetched his suit and the three of them left.

"So what exactly are we dealing with here."

Jean-Paul began to explain, "Much like the Order of Purity splintering from St Dumas, a satanic wing of the League of Shadows is trying to bring about the apocalypse, right here in Gotham..."

"Satanists! You dragged me all the way out 'ere for bloody satanists! They're just a bunch'a teenage goths summonin' demons cuz their pissed off their parents confiscated their Marilyn Manson CDs!" Scoffed Constantine.

"Your one to talk John, how are Mucous Membrane doing these days? Get many gigs? Or is everyone too busy with all these exorcisms?" chided Bruce, he'd wanted to one up smartarse John 'bloody' Constantine since he'd arrived.

"Everyone’s too bloody dead.... Or insane" John growled to himself.

"Enough, this cult are nothing to joke about, they have a prophecy about a boy here in Gotham 'twice born' his sacrifice will bring about the common of the leviathan."

"that's not good, but 'twice born' though? I'm guessing they don't mean that in the Jehovah’s Witness sense.”

"I don't know what it means." Finished Azrael gravely.

"But why here? Why Gotham?"

John laughe, "You’ve got to be kidding me!? Have you never considered why all the psychos, all the freaks come to Gotham? It's the Ley Lines mate, they converge at several points across the city. Evil is drawn to this place."

Batman considered for a moment, he only half believed John's supernatural nonsense. He knew he would need to call in reinforcements to cover all the convergent points in the city, the Occult aside there was still a group of people who had attacked Jean-Paul and were about to sacrifice a boy tonight, Bruce could not let that happen.

Kate assembled The Outsiders and Dick made the short journey from Bludhaven. As Bruce, John and Jean-Paul headed out across the city, Bruce was unsettled. Jason. He couldn't get hold of Jason.

Of course "twice born."

The thought dawning upon him, made him sick to his stomach. No..... No. He would not lose Jason again. He would not be too late this time. Bruce gritted his teeth, speeding across the city towards their first convergence site, the lights of the city flashed past dizzyingly. Constantine sat in the passenger fidgeting his nicotine stained fingers, maybe he was finally taking this seriously. Bruce saw Jean-paul in the back, head bowed, lips moving, usually Bruce was cynical of appealing to a higher power, but this time a prayer might be all they had.

It was so dark Jason couldn't be sure he'd actually opened his eyes. He wasn’t badly hurt as far as he could tell, but he was tied to some sort of wooden pole or stake. Jason had returned to Gotham after the death of Roy Harper at the sanctuary. Most people would return to their family for support after a tragedy, but considering the people who Jason considered family, just being in the same city was close enough. There was comfort in these dark families streets. He hadn't told anyone that he'd come back, but evidently someone had found out. Jason had learnt the hard way not to just lie there and wait for help to come, he struggled against his restraints, but it was futile and it was attracting attention, there were footsteps somewhere in the darkness.

"How do we get down?" Asked John.

"Down?"

"Well it ain't exactly going to be in there." John gestured towards to towering Gothic cathedral.

"He’s right, they'll be underground." Added Jean-Paul.

"The sewers then." Bruce was already upon the nearest manhole, this was slowing them down was all he could think.

"Why don't cults ever pick anywhere nice to hold their sacrifices, y'know like a Starbucks or something." John new the others weren't really listening to his complaints as they began their decent into the reeking blackness, he made a mental note never to return to Gotham under any circumstances.

Bruce in his headstrong way marched forward confidently in the darkness, it was no exaggeration that he knew every sordid inch of this city. He knew which tunnel of the sewers intersected with forgotten catacombs beneath the cathedral. It was his guess that any self respecting quasi-religious sect of assassins would pick somewhere that theatrical for their ceremony. No one just killed anyone in this city anymore, it was all about putting on a show. Also, none of the others had posted anything back about the points they were checking. In this situation no news was going to have to be good news, for Jason's sake.

They reached the dry, older parts of the tunnel, “Candles, still warm, people have been here recently."Bruce crouched down for a closer examination, vainly looking for evidence. Jean-Paul put his hand on Bruce's shoulder.

“He’ll be OK..... Quant à ceux qui croient et accomplissent les bonnes oeuvres, ce sont les meilleurs de toute la création."

From Bruce's rusty French it was something scriptural, but Jean-Paul's attempt to be encouraging was lost in the all encompassing guilt that was coming over Bruce. He could not fail Jason again.

Jason heard the footsteps get closer, he held his breath panic rising in his chest. It was too similar, the restraints, the darkness, all that was missing was maniacal laughter and it would be just like last time. He could still see nothing but he felt hands grab him, half lifting and half dragging him toward what appeared to be the light of some flickering candles. He struggled again to no avail. The people who held him were shrouded in black he's couldn't see them. They scarcely seemed to be human.

They were closing in John could sense it, it wasn't the candles of the muffled unseen footsteps but the heavy stench of death that made him believe that they were getting close. He wondered if the others had noticed it, or whether it was part of his predisposition to the supernatural.

Bruce made the first strike, with sonar precision he threw a fist from the shadows and a figure recoiled but didn't go down. In a instant they swarmed from the gloom, snarling hunched creatures, which appeared human, but were undoubtedly not living. Azrael, Constantine and Batman were surrounded.

"What the hell are these?" growled Bruce, fully aware that Azreal had just near severed the head of one of them with his sword and it was still fighting.

“A distraction," replied Constantine, trying to bat off the onslaught while raking his brains for spell that could help. "Why is nothing ever bloody easy?" he muttered despite the panic setting in, he would not see another child damned like Astra Logue. He had no idea if it would be powerful enough to work, but it was worth a shot. His accomplices were swiftly becoming overwhelmed.

"Ad infernum inmortuae!" The creatures let out an unearthly screech, then melted away into nothingness, but the resuming silence was too eerie to be enjoyed. "You’re welcome." John remarked with sarcasm to no one in particular, as the other two had already ran on ahead.

They stood around him chanting in a language he didn't understand. Fucking brilliant, I'm part of some sort of ritual, Jason thought to himself. The man directly in front of Jason held a bowl and knife, there was also a small fire in the centre of the room. Yep definitely a sacrifice, Jason observed confirming his worst suspicions. Using one of the many tricks Bruce had taught him all those years ago, he produced a small blade and priced to cut the restraints around his wrists. The noise of a commotion in one of the tunnels leading up to the crypt had distracted the congregation. Jason knew this was his best chance.

Grabbing the nearest person to him, Jason put them in a sleeper hold, they struggled but eventually went out. Jason dropped them and began untying his ankles.

"Anytime you'd like to join in." Azrael panted to John as they entered the crypt, visibly a little worse for wear from the preceding onslaught.

Bruce ran over to Jason.  
"I was wondering when the cavalry was going to show up." Jason joked, attempting to play down the damage of the ordeal.

“I'm just glad your not hurt." replied Bruce with a softness in his voice that was seldom heard.

Suddenly, John caught everyones attention one of the cultists on the floor had regained consciousness and had grabbed his leg. It rasped its warning maliciously  
  
“You can't outrun the will of the devil."

"Try me." A solid left hook put them back on the ground. Constantine dusted himself off.

"Most of the others have gone..." Azrael trailed off re-entering after going back to check the tunnels, he felt as if he was intruding, looking upon the stifled tenderness with which Bruce attended to his son.

"It doesn't matter, they won't be coming back here." Constantine knelt on the floor, drawing symbols and muttering in Latin.

"Can your spells stop them?" Jean-Paul questioned.

"I don't know, can your faith?"

"Enough," Bruce helped Jason to his feet.

"Enough for one night."


End file.
